<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020</id><updated>2012-02-16T06:19:06.513-08:00</updated><category term='Boys'/><category term='Sports'/><title type='text'>Planet Boy</title><subtitle type='html'>Musings on life with my three ... I mean four boys</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-1249078395480535369</id><published>2010-01-06T11:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T11:34:59.671-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hate 6th Grade</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Cooper and I fight every day. Every. Day. He is obstinate, argumentative and a total pre-teenager. It doesn't matter what I do, I'm wrong, I'm stupid, I'm not enough. It's breaking my heart. I'm finding the easiest thing to do is ignore him and I can't tell you how much that hurts. He doesn't want me in his space anymore.  My little boy who clung to his "nurseys" and his blanket named "ga" is nowhere to be seen. At least that's how it feels. &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Typically, Eric gets up with Cooper before school--I just make things harder--and takes him to school. This morning Eric had to go plow so I got the honors. I got up and he immediately bristled at my question of "Did you take a shower?" He actually stomped out of the room and slammed the door. What's worse is if his dad asks it's usually a response like, "Oh no ... not yet!" as he gleefully tip toes into the bathroom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I'm not sure what I'm doing that is insulting his sensitivities so greatly. Do I call him out too much? We have always been so close -- almost too close and I'm sure that part of this is his separating from me. Which obviously needs to happen -- but I didn't know it would be so hurtful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I laid back down after he got on the bus before I had to wake up Jackson and Aiden for school and cried. It is just so hard. It's so sad to me that the biggest heartbreak I have is between my son and my own heart. I thought I had a little more time before he left me but I was wrong. In a lot of ways he's already gone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;After he got out on the bus I texted him that I loved him and hoped he had a good day. He answered he loved me, too. I tried to remind myself of all the ways he's still with us -- with me -- the hug I got after school (that followed another argument, actually), his concern for me when I don't feel well, how he appreciated when I surprised him with "The Blind Side" book a few weeks ago. There's still a lot of good stuff, and a lot more to have, it's just all different and I wasn't ready for it to change so drastically so fast. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I'm trying to let him go and make his mistakes and rise to the occasions he's given on his own -- but he's only 12! Aren't I supposed to have a say, still? It seems as though he's fine with me unless I'm the one bringing the heat about homework, his room, his attitude ... so as long as I just get along he'll be nice to me? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I know I'm telling him too often what to do--I get that. But to be honest I'm scared. This is when everything you've said and done (and while I think I've done (we've done) a good job there all the sudden seems to be a danger around every corner) is coming out. I'm afraid he's not going to know. I am afraid he's going to be hurt. Little hurts I can live with. The big ones I can't. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I think Jackson's accident has been more traumatic to me than I am willing to admit. I have been so afraid of them being hurt, lost, gone ever since it happened that sometimes I can't breathe. Obviously, I need to get over that. I just want a window into his life, I don't need the whole thing--just a little bit. Is it so hard for him to give me that? Maybe. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-1249078395480535369?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/1249078395480535369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=1249078395480535369' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/1249078395480535369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/1249078395480535369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-hate-6th-grade.html' title='I Hate 6th Grade'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-5847837733818768291</id><published>2010-01-04T07:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T11:37:26.944-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WInter 2010 ... Hmmm ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;This winter feels different. Maybe I will live through the searing cold winds and heavy gray skies instead of merely surviving this year. My body still feels angled and hard, missing it’s rounder, softer, summer-self. My edges are sharper with word and thought as they usually are during these short days--it will take a conscious effort to endure January, February and March. Wishing away minutes, hours and days is not my way of living--but I know I have a difficult time not clicking my heels together three times when the clouds seem to hang so low they fog my thoughts and the sun is absent for weeks on end. “I want summer. I want summer. I want summer.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Add the weather with a pre-teen son with a girlfriend and an attitude, a ten-year-old who’d like to grow up sooner rather than later, a six-year old who is swearing like a sailor and isn’t afraid to take on the world and a husband who detests these icy winter months and it is difficult to smile around this ole house sometimes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I have added on the ten pounds I have fought off dozens of times before -- and am back to detailing, scrutinizing and rationing my food. Nearly all our parents have all gone to sunnier, warmer skies for the winter leaving us to tend to their animals and homes--while I’m grateful for the opportunity to repay their continual support and generosity, I’m also a little jealous. Life just feels better in the sun.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Despite all the caveats of the impending Michigan winter I feel somewhat optimistic. Eric has convinced himself to head back to the gym--which always helps his attitude and spirit. I am taking over the ordering and preparation for class at the lab. I will be working for Matty again soon. I’ve herded up enough courage to tackle these pesky ten pounds and am hopeful I’ll come out on top. The boys are all healthy, happy and engaged in activities and school. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Most years I start out January 1 with a thought of reorganizing, restructuring and rehabilitating my overindulged family -- back to TV limits that were ignored during the holiday hubbub, packing lunches and attempting to eat dinner together and earlier bed times all with the intention of dragging this sleigh through the winter months. This year my thoughts are similar -- only I don’t feel the anxiety of the winter months like I usually do. I know I can get through it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I’m not sure what’s so different this year from last. Maybe a more acute sense of the boys fleeting time with us as Cooper’s 12th birthday shone a searingly bright spotlight on how fast it all changes. We do have a trip to Jamaica planned with family and friends that I’m so looking forward to--but we’ve had that to look forward to before, nothing life changing new there. Eric gave me a new winter coat for Christmas--I feel warm and happy to wear it--maybe that’s it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;As I think back to year’s past it seems that the months of winter were irrepresible in many ways--the mechanics of simply taking the three boys out anywhere felt overwhelming. Finding 6 boots, 6 gloves, 3 coats, 3 hats and 3 pairs of snow pants, let alone matching socks was always a challenge that I rarely lived up to. We’d have one glove, mismatched mittens, boots without liners, NO socks and holes in the knees of our snow pants. That was just the getting ready to leave--sloshing through snowy, rainy parking lots just added to the misery. The boys are old enough now that the boots are theirs to find (at least the older boys) and I rarely have to drag all three of them out for errands these days. They’re older. They’re a bit easier in some respects.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Last year these months were not only absent of sun and warmth but also very trying times for Eric at work and the country in general. I distinctly remember running on the treadmill last year as I watched CNN, praying we’d just make it a few more months. IDC was perilously close to trouble and our livelihood with it. The weight of the economy and money stressors for Eric magnified the weight of the heavy hanging clouds--that has eased significantly. There are still mountains to climb--but we are standing on much firmer ground. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Perhaps I should not analyze or curiously wonder where the feeling of dread and claustrophobic anxiety I am usually saddled with went to. Perhaps I should enjoy being able to walk with a daily focus of the tasks at hand rather than carrying an omnipresent wool blanket of yuck draped across my shoulders. I have a stack of books to read and I’ve found “House Hunters International” on HGTV--I can make it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-5847837733818768291?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/5847837733818768291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=5847837733818768291' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/5847837733818768291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/5847837733818768291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2010/01/winter-2010-hmmm.html' title='WInter 2010 ... Hmmm ...'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-130611097168204869</id><published>2009-11-13T08:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T09:02:30.915-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Been A While ...</title><content type='html'>It's been nearly a year since I've written anything here. I have no excuse, no reason and actually, not much guilt. I have been writing (not a lot, but some) -- so maybe that's why I don't feel guilty. It's "not writing" that gets me -- not necessarily where or what I'm writing.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things have been challenging at home this year -- thankfully the year seems to be ending on a more positive note. Jackson is healing -- still has a ways to go but is getting better. Eric is busy! Work is busy and that is a wonderful thing. Cooper and Aiden have settled into their new roles at school -- first grader and middle schooler -- and while there have been some challenges (the swine flu for one) it seems to be moving along. Work for me has been very rewarding and is keeping me busy. The hours I dreamed I would have to write when the boys were all in school seem to have evaporated. Between work, the boys, the house, the gym and walking ... there's not a lot of time left. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This summer my plans were grand for how much time I would have to write and what I could produce while the boys were all at school. Granted, the fact that it hasn't come to fruition in quite that way is not all my fault. Jackson's injury and the swine flu put some heavy blankets on my fire. Now I'm faced with a long, cold winter ahead and trying to find the ambition to see if I can come out on the other side with something to show for it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Funny enough, it's not even that I need the ambition -- I actually do have plenty of that. I think it's more giving myself the freedom to commit to something that does not directly help my family in the short haul in any way at all. It's hard, as someone who has focused on being a mother for the past 12 years to now take time to direct a large amount of energy, purpose and resource toward a dream that is hers alone and one that is not likely to help her family the challenge is grand. Particularly when her family's needs are still ever present and very important.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmmm ... to me it's still a dream. I have not -- although I thought I had -- turned this dream of mine into a plan. I just realized that. Becoming a published non-fiction author was a dream I had that I turned into a goal and accomplished. For some reason -- becoming a fiction writer and turning that into a goal to be mastered is harder for me to conceptualize. Obviously, there is a fickle platform for which to turn this dream into a reality -- publishing is not easy and certainly not something you just wish for and it falls in your lap. I don't think I know how to convert my love and passion for writing and creating into something that could be my life's work -- and then I think about a plan for my future and what I see, what I want is a life that entails just that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I continue to look forward at my calendar and think "Oh yes, this December when I'm not working I'll write every day ... " But then there are gifts to buy and trees to trim and parties to attend ... I read once a writer's most important part of their anatomy was their butt. Sit down and write. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need to start using my butt, obviously. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-130611097168204869?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/130611097168204869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=130611097168204869' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/130611097168204869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/130611097168204869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s Been A While ...'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-7988354949665273280</id><published>2009-01-06T12:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T12:49:45.257-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here we go! 2009!</title><content type='html'>Okay, so it's here. I think now more than ever the turn of the new year seemed to be an anticipatory event. Our country is in trouble and you get the sense everywhere you turn that people are counting on the new year, the new administration, the new stimulus package, the new everything to fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, we ended 2008 with the flu times 5, 3 days of no power and promptly busted into 2009 with the snap of two arm bones. Woo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;yay&lt;/span&gt; us! Eric continues to struggle daily at work and the stress is overwhelming. I see it on his face and in his quiet smiles as he tries to be "daddy" and not the boss for a few &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hours&lt;/span&gt; every night. I wish more than anything for 2009 that I could give him some good years where he didn't have to worry about health insurance prices, gas prices or the Big 3. He is haunted every day with trying to stay afloat (and is doing as well as he can be in this world). I would give him peace if I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am hopeful, along with everyone else, that things will turn around and look forward to returning to prosperity and economic health. I know money is not everything--and to be clear we are doing fine thanks to my husband's foresight and conservative business sense, along with at least 10 years off his life--but it makes it difficult to enjoy the little (or big or medium sized)things when it is scarce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realize that perspective is helpful ... we are healthy (9 out of 10 of our arms work and we're no longer puking) and our bills are paid. We have wonderful friends and loving &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;family and&lt;/span&gt; food on the table and the house is warm again (3 days with no power in the middle of winter 'll kill ya). My boys are happy and healthy and doing what they love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2009 is another year to grow and learn and live and understand and for that I am thankful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm alive and today you know that's good enough for me. Breathing in and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;out's&lt;/span&gt; a blessing can't you see. Today's the first day of the rest of my life and I'm alive and well"&lt;br /&gt;~ Kenny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This just might be my theme song for 2008 ... no I mean 2009 ... maybe just always ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-7988354949665273280?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/7988354949665273280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=7988354949665273280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/7988354949665273280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/7988354949665273280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2009/01/here-we-go-2009.html' title='Here we go! 2009!'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-694770338229593724</id><published>2008-12-16T09:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T09:18:59.022-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyone around me is falling apart ...</title><content type='html'>I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;feelin&lt;/span&gt;' it. I'm really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;feelin&lt;/span&gt;' it. I have several friends in very bad situations this Christmas - the end of marriages, custody issues, traumas and financial stress. It seems as though life has been swimming along and now - 20 years or so later - the accumulation of their life choices (or life's chances) have caught up. Unhappiness abounds around me right now and I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;feelin&lt;/span&gt;' it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is interesting - as I talk with Eric nearly every day about one situation or another - how our role as friends change. This isn't like talking your girlfriend out of feeling sad she got dumped while you listen to Chicago's greatest love songs or telling taking your buddy out on a bender to get over a girl by morning. This is big time. Big stuff. This is trying to help your friends navigate through life's truly rough waters and it is hard to figure out just what my/our job is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I play devil's advocate? Do I point out my opinion? Do I just listen? Do I stand up for her when she's not standing on her own two feet? What do I do? I told Eric, I'm trying to learn how to be a good friend in these new circumstances but I don't think I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;quick&lt;/span&gt; enough on the uptake for this crash course. Before any of you begin to feel as though I'm speaking right to you -- and we all know you're there -- this is not just about one relationship or one situation. Life for several of our close friends has gotten very hard and I want to "do good."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to come to the other side with these friendships in tact--stronger? I want to learn how to be a friend in these trying times and I suppose what I can rely on is simply looking back. Ending a marriage is certainly bigger than having your two-month-old high school romance cool -- but maybe chocolate, friendship and a few sad songs is still the way to go. Another idea - maybe I'll just ask.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-694770338229593724?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/694770338229593724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=694770338229593724' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/694770338229593724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/694770338229593724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/12/everyone-around-me-is-falling-apart.html' title='Everyone around me is falling apart ...'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-5518038909703525790</id><published>2008-12-01T07:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T08:12:16.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 10 Things I Learned at Disney World</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/STQMpXyM3AI/AAAAAAAAACg/HVv7z6EFDzc/s1600-h/IMG_3442.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274854968456436738" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/STQMpXyM3AI/AAAAAAAAACg/HVv7z6EFDzc/s200/IMG_3442.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me preface this by saying we had a wonderful time. It was as wonderful and as stressful as I imagined it to be. Here is what I learned.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Disney World is not the happiest place on earth. If you actually look around you will hear crying, whining, tired, cranky kids and parents who are stressed and paying a LOT for it. Disney imagineers are experts at the bait-and-switch ... have you seen their commercials?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. You have to make reservations at Disney World to eat anywhere that is not ... McDonald's.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Being upgraded during "The Year of a Million Dreams" was a beautiful, amazing and blessed thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Disney World is magical - my boys (Aiden especially) believed that Minnie loves to sew and that she is an excellent artist ("Did you see all the ribbons Minnie won, momma?!")&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. There is not much more stressful--or magically unbelievable--than the Magic Kingdom at night. The parade, the fireworks, the castle bathed in colored light, Tinkerbell's flight across the sky ... the people, the chaos the manic atmosphere. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. My boys love roller coasters and the big two are old enough to stand in line for their favorites all by themselves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Our economy is not that bad. There are plenty of people willing to throw good money at a mouse. Us included.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. My husband is not used to being around his kids (let alone a million others) all day, every day, for a week. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. My boys are helpful, funny, engaging, creative, tolerant, pliable and flexible little guys. When they're not having their moments. :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. I'd go back in a heart beat to watch Aiden's face at the opening of the Magic Kingdom park, "Momma, this is my best vacation I ever had!". I'd go back to see Jackson get blindsided by a kiss from Cinderella. I'd go back to watch Cooper love roller coasters he was afraid of two years ago. I'd go back to watch Eric holding Aiden on his shoulders as Tinkerbell flew across the night sky. I'd go back to see my boys (all three of 'em) squeal with delight as Chip &amp;amp; Dale (Chip being my alter ego on skates) came past us in the parade yelling "Momma, that's you!". I'd go back in a heart beat to get all that time snuggling, holding hands, and truly being with those magical little boys. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-5518038909703525790?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/5518038909703525790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=5518038909703525790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/5518038909703525790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/5518038909703525790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/12/top-10-things-i-learned-at-disney-world.html' title='Top 10 Things I Learned at Disney World'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/STQMpXyM3AI/AAAAAAAAACg/HVv7z6EFDzc/s72-c/IMG_3442.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-9044810912681128784</id><published>2008-11-12T09:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T09:46:33.512-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"I am not a hamster ..."</title><content type='html'>Have you seen the commercial--I don't even know what the product is--but it's a guy running in a city and a voice over says "I am not a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hamster&lt;/span&gt; and life is not a wheel."? This is me. Making lists, crossing them off, making more lists. I do this year round but I swear my lists get more detailed all winter long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night the fall/winter blues hit our house like a pathetic, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;wimpy&lt;/span&gt; damp rag. Eric walked around the house &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mumbling&lt;/span&gt; how he hates the dark and it's &amp;amp;$%#* cold outside. I curled up on the couch watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Aiden&lt;/span&gt; play cars and felt like I needed to go to bed--it was 6:45. The boys were antsy and loud and rough in the house. About 7:00 EA opened a second bottle of wine and we cleaned the play room together -- just to be moving. When we eventually turned off all the lights and headed to bed I hugged Eric and told him I already missed Summer Eric ... you know the one who sings as he walks around the house, dances spontaneously and throws footballs, baseballs and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Frisbees&lt;/span&gt; for hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this morning I started to ... make a list! What else. We can go to the Y, we can visit friends, we can watch movies together (there's a new concept for us), we can plan weekends away, we can drink more wine ... gotta love a list that has wine on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hamster&lt;/span&gt; and this life is not a wheel - I will find a way to enjoy the winter/dark/cold. Period.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-9044810912681128784?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/9044810912681128784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=9044810912681128784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/9044810912681128784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/9044810912681128784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-am-not-hampster.html' title='&quot;I am not a hamster ...&quot;'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-1131308630418912228</id><published>2008-10-30T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T09:53:46.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There's a New "Kid" in Town</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SQnlalS0hUI/AAAAAAAAAB4/EjO9yN0sC-c/s1600-h/IMG_2252.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262989884409546050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SQnlalS0hUI/AAAAAAAAAB4/EjO9yN0sC-c/s200/IMG_2252.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We spent the most wonderful evening last night. Jackson--after three years of lessons and a year and a half of worrying and wondering if he wanted to play in front of people (nevermind the fact that his life's plan is to be ... a rock star)--did it. He got up in front of a room of 100+ and played his guitar, sang and smiled. He loved it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was nervous, anxious and excited for him. He had put in the practice time on the piece, so I was confident he knew what to do but I was nervous that he would, well ... get nervous! It was a Halloween recital so the kids all wore their costumes and he designed one specifically for the occassion as his favorite rocker - Kid Rock. He sauntered and swaggered - he acted like a rock star. His instructor Chris (a perfect match for my boy) played with him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He played Luckenbach, Texas--an oldie but a goodie to country fans--a version we found done by Kenny Chesney and Kid Rock. Jackson was so taken with the song because Kenny and Kid are his two idols. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is amazing as we watch our kids grow and change to watch them fall in love with life, to find their passions and be excited about doing and being a part of things. I could not have been more proud of the kid if he had sung in front of 100,000 instead. Loved it. Just loved it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-1131308630418912228?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/1131308630418912228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=1131308630418912228' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/1131308630418912228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/1131308630418912228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/10/theres-new-kid-is-in-town.html' title='There&apos;s a New &quot;Kid&quot; in Town'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SQnlalS0hUI/AAAAAAAAAB4/EjO9yN0sC-c/s72-c/IMG_2252.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-6854726699490939992</id><published>2008-10-15T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T09:27:21.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Restless ...</title><content type='html'>Fall is here. The colors are gorgeous, the weather has been beautiful. Our calendar is full of birthday parties, tailgates and football games and concerts. I have a new Kenny CD playing and my boys are off at school. I have work to do--work I want to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow the restlessness that I get every fall has settled into my bones again. I feel melancholy on days like today--when the sun is hiding and the chill in the air is poignant. I feel nervous and anxious about being held under water for six months. That's what winter feels like to me--like I have to dive under, find shelter and wait out the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling isn't constant--it just comes and goes--and most the time I'm genuinely happy in my own skin. I've just decided I was probably a mermaid in another life. The cold weather just steals my energy and despite valiant efforts to the contrary I keep letting it. This year I am feeling it stronger than ever--of course I say that every year--but the difference is we have no vacations planned (Disney World will be a blast with the boys but it's not quite the same as sun, sand and a Frozen Diet &amp;amp; Malibu ...) to the islands this year.  We've been down there every year for 4 or 5 years (yes, I know how lucky I am ...) and this year is out. (Yes, I also know Jamaica in April counts for 2008 but I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;talkin&lt;/span&gt;' winter here ...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So - my restless heart (make no mistake here, my restlessness comes solely and completely from my geographical position on this planet ... I love my husband. I love my boys. I love my house. I just wish, wish, wish it was on the coast of somewhere beautiful.) is going to look for a few answers to get through and I absolutely refuse to wish my time with my boys and EA and on this planet away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-6854726699490939992?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/6854726699490939992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=6854726699490939992' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/6854726699490939992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/6854726699490939992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/10/restless.html' title='Restless ...'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-4320425169206558800</id><published>2008-10-13T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T11:25:12.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10 things ... kind of</title><content type='html'>Okay so I'm following your lead. Sort of. I have a beautiful journal (it has the picture of a beautiful beach on the cover) that I have kept a list of things I want to do before I die. I don't have a number because I don't want a goal of things I have to do before I die ... I just wanted to write them down. I did really well with getting them done. At first. But then I got caught up in the day to day tasks of life and off my list blew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here will be a list of 5 things I want to do in the short run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Lose 5 pounds. (Okay, that's my staple goal - it'll always be here.)&lt;br /&gt;2. I am writing all the time now. Every day. For all kinds of people. I want to get back to my manuscript and start committing a few hours every week.&lt;br /&gt;3. Keep to my gym schedule - this is cheating  because I don't vary from it often during the school year.&lt;br /&gt;4. Go visit my mom in Florida again this year.&lt;br /&gt;5. With my business, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;accidentally&lt;/span&gt; ended up having most of my work be web based--writing content. I do enjoy it and it is a step in a professional direction as far as my writing goes--but I want to focus on some more print markets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There they are. Nothing fancy. Just the thoughts that have been bouncing around my head. Oh ... I also want to get the 8000 photos on my computer backed up. It is kind of stressing me out a little bit that they're not backed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go back to my pretty beach book and update it - mull it around a bit and I'll get back to you with a life list. I just have a lot of things to do on my desk right now and ... I promise I really will stop &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;procrastinating&lt;/span&gt; and update my life list. Soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-4320425169206558800?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/4320425169206558800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=4320425169206558800' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/4320425169206558800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/4320425169206558800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/10/10-things-kind-of.html' title='10 things ... kind of'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-6177500671332059330</id><published>2008-09-02T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T10:51:20.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of School</title><content type='html'>Whew ... we made it! Everyone is at school - even Aiden - and having a good day. I got to check in on the big boys when I was filling out paperwork for Aiden and they seemed to be doing okay. Cooper had sweat dripping down his face from recess (it's almost 90!) and Jackson's stomach ache of earlier had passed (I'm thinking nerves).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was worried Jackson's birthday might get passed over because of it being the first day but sure enough, his teacher and principal remembered and he got a moment to give his treasured Johnathan Rand (specially signed by the author to Wacousta Readers!) book to his class. We had cinnamon roles for a birthday breakfast and we'll have waffles and sausage (a request of breakfast dinner for the birthday boy) before we head out to football practice this evening. Jackson ordered up a key lime pie as well - so we'll try and fit that all in tonight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm turning to myself and looking to build a list of work I can create and/or generate through the few contacts I have and maybe a little cold calling (yuck!). I will be posting a list of goals for the year (yes, I go by school years not chronological years :-)) here in the next few days so that I can better organize my thoughts and get myself moving.  With my three beautiful boys in school for at least 4 hours of the day I'm off to the races to try and build a freelance writing business. Hopefully I will be able to build on the work I've done in the last nine months and get somewhere!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny, time goes so fast. I remember thinking last fall that I needed to really try and build my portfolio and get some things going so that I could stay busy while the boys were gone. I can't believe the time has come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-6177500671332059330?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/6177500671332059330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=6177500671332059330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/6177500671332059330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/6177500671332059330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/09/first-day-of-school.html' title='First Day of School'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-8636912785702197938</id><published>2008-08-25T04:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T12:23:06.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Livin' in Fast-Forward ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SLMDh0duwWI/AAAAAAAAABg/dtKIlwN0GDc/s1600-h/IMG_3048.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238534671115927906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SLMDh0duwWI/AAAAAAAAABg/dtKIlwN0GDc/s200/IMG_3048.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is what Jackson looked like Friday night after being stung by a wasp between the eyes - by Saturday am both eyes were swollen shut and his lips were fat enough to make him slop through his words. We took him to ER--he was not in trouble, could breathe and didn't feel his tongue swelling--but the swelling just kept getting worse by the minute and I couldn't stand (neither could he) it anymore. Sitting in ER I was brushing his hair back from his face and surveyed his little body - he has a skid mark up his elbow, scratches from Sage across his chest, 4 open blisters on the palms of his hands (he looks like Jesus) from too much monkey baring, a blood blister on his toe and a deep bruise on his shin. The doctor smiled at him (after we established that "he" was a "him" and not a "her") and said, "he just goes at it fast, doesn't he?" Yep. A little over 48 hours later he is looking better, but still swollen and now bruised where the influx of fluid was under his eyes and eyelids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an interesting lesson in humility. Everywhere we went people stared at him. He tends to sluff his bangs down in his face under normal circumstances--they're cooler that way--but after a few public interactions (hopsital, pharmacy) he was finding ways to hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night when he walked into Bryan and Cathy's house he scared both Hope, 2 years old and Mallory, 4, so badly they both cried -- Mallory cried herself to sleep. The following day he was planning on going to "Cousins Camp" at my step-brother and sister-in-law's where they gather with cousins (none they know well) and have scavenger hunts, play in the creek and go down q big water slide. He choose not to so he wouldn't scare the little kids. He stayed in the car while Grandma Ginna dropped off the other boys and visited for a few minutes. He broke my heart refusing to get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He checks the mirror every few hours -- last night proclaiming "I'm getting back to normal. I'm not so hideous anymore." I told him he wasn't hideous and he said ... "Momma, I was hideous. I scared little girls." and walked out. We are still keeping him doped up on benadryl and he's taking his steroids and watching out for cellulitis. I can't wait until I say "Do you remember when Jacks got stung between the eyes by that wasp? That was awful."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-8636912785702197938?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/8636912785702197938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=8636912785702197938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/8636912785702197938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/8636912785702197938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/08/livin-in-fast-forward.html' title='Livin&apos; in Fast-Forward ...'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SLMDh0duwWI/AAAAAAAAABg/dtKIlwN0GDc/s72-c/IMG_3048.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-3960556924008829730</id><published>2008-08-19T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T08:07:25.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soccer Daze</title><content type='html'>We spent this weekend at a soccer tournament for Jackson--he played a total of six games and they went 5 - 1, losing only in the Championship Game. He had a blast and the weather was beautiful (even if a bit hot). We've spent this summer in athletic pursuit--from baseball and track to soccer and football; the boys have learned a lot and made new friends, as we have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are coming down the stretch of summer, the last two weeks before school returns, I go back to LCC--although I did teach a bit this summer--and hopefully starting a few more writing projects. I still have a few of the goals we set yet to accomplish--today we'll be going through socks and all the papers still stashed from last year to decide what we want to keep and what to toss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm dragging my feet but I suppose I'm getting ready. Think positive ... football games, tailgates, change of pace ... all that and we're headed to Florida for Thanksgiving so I can't complain too much!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-3960556924008829730?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/3960556924008829730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=3960556924008829730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/3960556924008829730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/3960556924008829730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/08/soccer-daze.html' title='Soccer Daze'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-1192598769623667976</id><published>2008-08-12T05:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T06:01:34.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summertime Blues</title><content type='html'>Anyone who knows me knows I love summertime, the beach, flip flops, palm trees and coconuts. So why the summertime blues? Because they're &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;almost&lt;/span&gt; over. The air is chilly outside, the nights are getting cooler and school is only a few weeks away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All three of my boys are going to school this fall - my baby is going to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;kindergarten&lt;/span&gt; and Cooper will be in 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade and Jackson moves to upper elementary - three big changes for the year. I do love the fall and I love football and tailgating and quite honestly this fall I will have a lot of writing and work to do. Which, I admit was by design--I've been planning and plotting my four hours a day that my boys are gone since last year, afraid that I'd be lost and lonely without a plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're spending these last days cramming in swimming and beaches and camping and late nights while the dark crouches closer to the day and the fire flies are starting to wane. Time is fast. Too fast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-1192598769623667976?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/1192598769623667976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=1192598769623667976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/1192598769623667976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/1192598769623667976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/08/summertime-blues.html' title='Summertime Blues'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-5340037594502544267</id><published>2008-08-03T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T18:56:06.097-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"There are some things you just can't love enough." ~ Cooper, age 10</title><content type='html'>The last five days were spent immersed in my boys. I took them up north last Wednesday and we were joined by EA on Friday late afternoon. Wednesday was spent at Hartwick pines; learning of logging and days gone by while we walked among the trees. We went swimming at Lake Michigan, climbed dunes and hiked ski hills. We went rafting in the Sturgeon River (a few days before Kid Rock was to show up says local legend) and we walked around Harbor Springs oooohing and ahhhing over the big yachts in port. We ate ice cream (sorbet for Jackson who happily reported to every ice cream shop "I'm lactose intolerant; do you have anything without dairy?") a lot and even ate homemade donuts from our favorite donut shop in town. We watched the sun set over the big water and cheered with strangers as another day was brought to its end. We slept in and I worked and we planned each day as it unfolded. We spent hours on the beach and played and laughed in the "huge" waves. We watched two artists paint the horizon from atop a dune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We visited the book shop of one of the boy's favorite authors - Johnathan Rand, author of "Michigan Chillers", "American Chillers" and "Freddie Fernortner the Fearless First Grader"- only to find out he would be there a few days later signing autographs and talking with kids. We came back. They got books signed for them personally and one a piece for their class to donate this year. They loved seeing him in person and for me it was an inspiration to see a man who has reached national acclaim for his writing - and made a career out of it. He was gracious and kind with the boys - all the kids in the store and there were a lot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday night was a surprise as Cooper offered to stay home from going out to dinner to watch his brothers so EA and I could go out to eat. We took him up on it, went up the road (back to the harbor to ooohh and aaahhh at more boats and soak up the sunshine and summertime atmosphere of the marina). We walked around town, held hands and talked. EA was relaxed - good to see and something we haven't seen much of lately. I talked to my mom on the phone and she said "You sound very calm." and I was. I was peaceful and happy and if I could have stayed there forever I would have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back at home, I am inundated with laundry and have a stack of bills to pay and both soccer and football camp to prepare for tomorrow. I have a small job "interview" tomorrow for another "how to" content site and 25 cards to write to meet my deadline. I have an article to re-write that I don't think needs re-writing but some editor somewhere disagrees. We needed groceries and soap. The car needed vacuuming and vacation needed to be put away. I found myself getting stressed - those small inpatients sneaking back in with the boys. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am, downloading photos and writing it all down so I can remember what it felt like to just be with them. To really be with my boys together with no interruptions and no intrusions. To enjoy their company and to laugh at their jokes. To take the time to understand the argument rather than telling them to abruptly "figure it out." To listen to them as they discovered new places and remembered old favorites.  While we sat the first night at a secluded beach, watching the sun begin its descent into its temporary watery grave the clouds gave way to a little big of sun. Not a lot, just enough to remind you he was there - you know, a little bit of Jas Shine. Cooper looked at me with sand in his hands, his teeth chattering just a bit from the cool night air hitting his skin damp from the lake and said "There are some things you just can't love enough." I told him "I know." and am certain that someday he will understand what he said truly means.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-5340037594502544267?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/5340037594502544267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=5340037594502544267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/5340037594502544267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/5340037594502544267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/08/there-are-some-things-you-just-cant.html' title='&quot;There are some things you just can&apos;t love enough.&quot; ~ Cooper, age 10'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-1753569946616472158</id><published>2008-07-18T08:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T08:30:55.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffee House Musings</title><content type='html'>This morning I am amazingly kid free. Cooper is at the golf course, Jackson &amp;amp; Aiden went with their grandma and grandpa to their aunt's house to do decidely more summer activities than sitting at a ball park again tonight. They will be back in the morning--just in time to watch more baseball! I have been sitting and working all morning at Beaners--oh, I mean Biggby--and enjoying the rich atmosphere of the clients as they worked through their conversations this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I listened to two old friends talking about their teenagers drivers-education classes and the process of moving their older daughters into their respective dorms. I overheard a young college grad getting advice from a sage professional regarding her portfolio and interview techniques for her first teaching gig. I have watched a gentleman work two computers at the same time and observed a young girl studying intently for nearly three hours now. It is a rich environment for a writer and I find myself aching to return to my fiction but still not quite able to start--so my blog is a compromise somewhere inbetween The "AHNA Standards of Holistic Nursing Practice" and Trixie the admitedly white-trash waitress who is floating around my head.&lt;br /&gt;I am really enjoying my "day job" as it were of writing the study materials and random articles and it does bring in some cash which is nice - but I really would like to figure out what Trixie's problem is and solve it ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe tomorrow. Inbetween baseball games.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-1753569946616472158?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/1753569946616472158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=1753569946616472158' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/1753569946616472158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/1753569946616472158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/07/coffee-house-musings.html' title='Coffee House Musings'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-6456900427675564691</id><published>2008-07-13T16:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T17:06:29.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where did I go?</title><content type='html'>Somewhere along this trip I've lost myself. I am now writing and making money -- what I once thought would make me so happy--and it certainly does. It does also give me a sense of accomplishment and I feel good bringing something to the table again. It feels warm and wonderful that the boys think it is very cool that I "write articles" and are proud to tell their friends and teachers (Jackson even incorporated it into my Mother's Day poem). I have fun doing it and look forward to time to work.  However, I am finding myself constantly neglecting my blog, my fiction and to a certain extent my friends to get the job done. To be able to pull off motherhood the way I want to do it, work more, keep the wheels turning around this house and be a supportive, loving wife is taking it out of me.  I have to figure out how to get more out of my days and have it cost me less. Hmm ... sounds like what everyone else needs, I know. I'm not unique. I just think I'm having a few growing pains associated with adding some work hours back into my day and trying to still accomodate everything else at full tilt. I am not working at top efficiency, I know that. I am getting distracted and walk around in circles sometimes so I think there is room for me to squeeze more productivity out (I mean productivity very loosely--think meeting my own goals not work/money). I need a plan and I also need to get my ass back into the exercise grind, I've been doing the minimum which is enver enough. I need to stop being short sighted and see clearly into the future. I need ... I think I really need a girl's night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-6456900427675564691?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/6456900427675564691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=6456900427675564691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/6456900427675564691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/6456900427675564691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/07/where-did-i-go.html' title='Where did I go?'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-4838605397436768225</id><published>2008-05-23T11:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T12:49:51.362-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kenny!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SDceYqCL99I/AAAAAAAAABY/q6fxGoj_B-o/s1600-h/IMG_2334.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203661303399053266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SDceYqCL99I/AAAAAAAAABY/q6fxGoj_B-o/s200/IMG_2334.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's often been stated that Camelot was a perfect place, in the perfect time. On Wednesday night I had one of those nights where everything not only went well but was simply perfect. We went to the Kenny Chesney concert (we love him over here) with 16 of my favorite people (a few others were missing). A few months ago a friend/family of ours won a suite so we were treated to our own bathroom, cases of cold Corona, food and a balcony dead center stage. It was a blast - room to dance, sing, move around. We absolutely soared through the night. After which we were lucky enough that my sister-in-law, Missy, won two tickets to the after party. Now here's the lesson ... she went to pick up her two tickets and asked for more. She told them her party has 16 people and they ... gave her 16 tickets. Hmmm ... ask for what you want? It gets better. We arrived at the bar to a line two city blocks long and 5 people wide. So, a few went walking and came back with news that there was a much shorter line converging at the door with the LONG line. Fifteen minutes later we were in, cold beer in hand and making our way to the stage. We ran into some other friends -- she had her hat signed by Kenny and had sat in the "Sandbar" (a closed off section of the front stage). I asked her how she got the tickets and she said ... "I just asked if there was room for me to get in". Hmm ... again, ask for what you want? We ended up in the front (Missy literally IN THE FRONT) while Kenny made an appearance at the bar and sang one of my favorite songs (along with a few others). Luke Bryan made a brief appearance also. We had a fantastic time and it made me remember (thank you Jayne, thank you Missy) that you absolutely have to ask for what you want in this world. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-4838605397436768225?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/4838605397436768225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=4838605397436768225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/4838605397436768225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/4838605397436768225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/05/kenny.html' title='Kenny!'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SDceYqCL99I/AAAAAAAAABY/q6fxGoj_B-o/s72-c/IMG_2334.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-6936881515269977991</id><published>2008-05-13T06:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T06:19:25.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baseball &amp; Ice Cream</title><content type='html'>The baseball tournament went well.  Cooper played one game behind the plate and did really well for his first game--not to mention that game they played against the #3 team in the nation.  He is not playing as much as last year--there are only four boys who didn't play this level of ball last year and he's one of them so he is sitting more often.  It is a character builder for sure--but he is also learning a lot about the game. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night they had their first league game--different rules and even up play time--and he caught for 3 innings and did fantastic. They got two players in a pickle at the same time (between 2 and 3 and 3 and home) and he stayed in the game, threw and caught with confidence.  Eric was laughing and smiling and very proud.  As was Coopy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part though--most of the team was going to our resident ice cream stop walking distance from the baseball park.  We were going to forgo the pit stop but as I was going to drive by I realized nearly his whole team was there.  We swung in and I was so happy we did.  He is new to this group of kids and it was worth the late night to watch him giggling and being integrated into a new group of boys. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told Eric late last night--it is so much fun to watch your kids grow up, find their passion and learn their way.  It is painful sometimes, too (It's not the most fun I've ever had watching him sit the bench) but I know he's learning life lessons and I know he's growing.  Sad.  Happy.  Excited.  Tearful.  Proud.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-6936881515269977991?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/6936881515269977991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=6936881515269977991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/6936881515269977991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/6936881515269977991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/05/baseball-ice-cream.html' title='Baseball &amp; Ice Cream'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-9216695660604915298</id><published>2008-05-08T05:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T05:44:47.642-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sports'/><title type='text'>Swing, Batter-Batter, Swing!</title><content type='html'>Cooper has his first baseball game tonight.  I'm a little nervous for him as this is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; a step up in competition from what he's done in the past.  The boys were told in the beginning of practice that they were chosen to "bring home a state championship!"  Yikes.  So, here we go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's interesting is the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;demeanor&lt;/span&gt; on the field is actually much more positive and healthy than it was last year when he played recreational ball.  It's amazing the difference the leadership of a team can make.  The new coach will not raise his voice.  If he has comments to make to the boys he walks out to them and discusses quietly and personally what they need to work on.  Right on!  Cooper is enjoying himself and feeling good about what they're doing so that's all that really matters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping in a few months I'll look back on this post and have memories of a fun, exciting, learning year of ball for him.  I think about my tenth year and how passionate I was about skating and know how important this all is to him.  I think it may be harder to have my job--sit back, watch, wait, enjoy.  Having no control of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;outcome&lt;/span&gt; for him is a little nerve racking--and a little expensive.  I've bought everything he could possibly need to feel comfortable, look right and play.  That's pretty much my job.  Do the shopping.  Do the driving.  Do the cheering while he does the playing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-9216695660604915298?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/9216695660604915298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=9216695660604915298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/9216695660604915298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/9216695660604915298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/05/swing-batter-batter-swing.html' title='Swing, Batter-Batter, Swing!'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-8449762284629871438</id><published>2008-04-29T06:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T07:02:59.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Race for the Cure</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SBcqAlKZadI/AAAAAAAAABI/yTjKVK_1hXg/s1600-h/IMG_2207.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194666884659243474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SBcqAlKZadI/AAAAAAAAABI/yTjKVK_1hXg/s200/IMG_2207.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SBcqBFKZaeI/AAAAAAAAABQ/E0eFJVoZ41w/s1600-h/IMG_2227.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194666893249178082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SBcqBFKZaeI/AAAAAAAAABQ/E0eFJVoZ41w/s200/IMG_2227.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Sunday my three boys (and the rest of my family!) and I spent the day at the Race for the Cure in honor of my sister--Jessica Leigh Walsh--and in memory of my grandmother--Helena Chrstine Steinbower. I was so proud of my boys. Sure, it's not hard to get a 10, 8 and 4 year old excited about running around, getting some swag and hanging out with their cousins and friends. What is amazing is that they really do get why we're there. They tell their friends. They honor their aunt by sharing her story and telling their friends why they ran. And they ran. They ran the kid's sprint. They ran the kid's mile. And then they ran the 5K. Aiden of course skipped the 1 mile and walked the 5K (with a few helpful piggy back rides!) but for a 4 year old-I was impressed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are many occasions on which I am proud of my children and my family and this is just one of them. When we were kids our family motto was "we stick together". I'm proud to say that after thirty-some years we still do. Jackson said to me during the race ... "We don't quit in our family do we, momma?" I am proud of that. I am proud of them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-8449762284629871438?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/8449762284629871438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=8449762284629871438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/8449762284629871438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/8449762284629871438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/04/race-for-cure.html' title='Race for the Cure'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Yk09I90703A/SBcqAlKZadI/AAAAAAAAABI/yTjKVK_1hXg/s72-c/IMG_2207.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-6160666187215723985</id><published>2008-02-18T05:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T05:45:06.531-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday Blues</title><content type='html'>We spent the weekend skiing and snowboarding together.  It was a lot of fun, but today is back to the grind with th exception of no school for the boys.  We struggle on days off it seems ~ Cooper does better with a schedule.  I asked them all to sleep in this morning (boarding for the whole weekend always takes it out of them) even though they went to bed early, so that they'd catch up a bit.  Well, first they wouldn't GO to sleep and then they wouldn't STAY asleep.  They are grouchy and Jackson is crying at the drop of a hat.  On top of that we have homework (a lot) to do, no groceries and a house to clean.  Yuck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was blue coming home yesterday anticipating today ... I love days off with my boys but also can dread them when I know I'm going to have to be the enforcer and get them to do things they don't want to do ALL day.  Again, yuck.  Oh well.  We'll try and muddle through.  This is when I try to come up with a plan that will pull us to the end ~ their favorite lunch and maybe download a few new tunes to clean to.  With any luck they'll come around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-6160666187215723985?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/6160666187215723985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=6160666187215723985' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/6160666187215723985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/6160666187215723985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/02/monday-blues.html' title='Monday Blues'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-7766373328390038353</id><published>2008-02-08T08:16:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T08:25:34.853-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>Babies and Big Boys</title><content type='html'>I am spending the day with Aiden and Everett - Everett is my 4 1/2 month old nephew whom I adore.  I am however, having flashbacks and wondering how I actually took care of my three guys when they were 5 years and under!  I have lamented lately that I think babyhood was easier for me ~ I understood my more clearly defined role as the provider of all food, nourishment, protection and safety.  Babyhood for me was a no-brainer, I was rarely hit with a situation I couldn't navigate.  I'm not saying I was a baby guru or an infant whisperer ~ I just understand babies.  My own boys in particular. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I still agree that for me the decisions and day to day tasks of raising my baby boys came easier to me than the tasks I have at hand today with my "bigger boys" - I am fairly sure I blocked out how much physical presence is actually required to care for an infant.  Granted ~ when my boys were fussy it was mimis that fixed everything and I can not breast feed Everett so I am at a slight disadvantage concerning my resources in being able to soothe thim.  I am also not his mommy and that more certainly plays a role in his reaction to the different environment today.  But still, I had forgotten how physically taxing a baby truly is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still not sure I wouldn't trade my boys in for their former babyselves from time to time ~ sometimes the tasking work of rocking and snuggling, cuddling and comforting seems much more appealing than the argumentative, challenging, frustrating concerns of parenthood that I'm swimming in now.  Maybe all I'd really like is to be in control of something or someone from time to time these days .... hmmm ... something to ponder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-7766373328390038353?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/7766373328390038353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=7766373328390038353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/7766373328390038353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/7766373328390038353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/02/babies-and-big-boys.html' title='Babies and Big Boys'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-5765516873380887006</id><published>2008-02-05T11:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T11:53:54.200-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>Fog Delay and the Super Bowl</title><content type='html'>This morning the melting snow is mixing with warmer air to create a school delaying soup outside.  The boys were thrilled to be home a few extra hours - they roller bladed in hte basement, played with their turtles and Cooper read me stories from &lt;em&gt;Sports Illustrated Kids.&lt;/em&gt;  I'm feeling a little under the weather and as soon as my sweet boys heard me coughing and heard me say "I don't feel so well" they were attentive and eager to please. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are days when I'm unsure what I'm doing and if we'll all make it to the end - and then comes mornings like this when I figure I must be doing something right to evoke such sweet compassion and understanding out of little bodies that are programmed to be selfish and egotistical at this age. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We watched some footage on the Manning boys last night ... Peyton and Eli of course, but also their older brother Cooper.  By all reports they are exemplorary in behavior, choice and values.  I found myself wondering how their mom did it all.  Not that I think I'm raising three football super stars - I mean how did she raise boys who cheered so vigorously for each other, rejoiced so thourghly in the others successes when it meant failure on their own fronts.  There was a sound byte of Peyton talking to Eli in the locker room immediately after the Giants won the Super Bowl in what is being called the bigget underdog sports victory of all times, on the news last night.  Peyton says with no inhibition to his little brother "I love ya man!  I'm so proud of you.  So proud of you.  I love ya.  Let's go have a few, ya want to?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was glad to have my boys watch such brotherly support and love - and I hope they can follow in those big ole footsteps - not to the Super Bowl, but to a life that allows freedom of feeling and love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-5765516873380887006?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/5765516873380887006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=5765516873380887006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/5765516873380887006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/5765516873380887006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/02/fog-delay-and-super-bowl.html' title='Fog Delay and the Super Bowl'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417673364521387020.post-3611663819179711992</id><published>2008-02-04T19:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T19:28:26.939-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here I go again!</title><content type='html'>So, I lost Planet Boy at nodblog.  It disappeared.  Fell into the deep cyberspace vaccuum.  I was heartbroken over lost writing and thoughts ... months and months worth!  I wasn't sure I had the heart to start again, but here I am.  Writing about those cool little boys who make my house a testosterone soup makes me who I am, helps me see thru what's not so important and clarify what is.  I enjoy it.  I'm over the heartbreak (except for occassional pangs of mourning) and am ready to get back at it.  I'll start tomorrow.  Or maybe Wednesday.  I will start.  I promise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6417673364521387020-3611663819179711992?l=planetboy3.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/feeds/3611663819179711992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6417673364521387020&amp;postID=3611663819179711992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/3611663819179711992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6417673364521387020/posts/default/3611663819179711992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://planetboy3.blogspot.com/2008/02/here-i-go-again.html' title='Here I go again!'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11777192157466504677</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Yk09I90703A/R6jBK_4mODI/AAAAAAAAABA/RDYzSYwVUDg/S220/P2010285.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
